The next morning, as Foxwell was about to set forth on horseback with his friends, the gamekeeper sought an interview. Being ordered to speak out, the man said that Squire Thornby’s people had again broken down the fence on t’other side of the four beeches, and were busy putting it up again on the hither side. “Us were going to drive them back, and were a’most come to blows, when the Squire’s agent told us we’d best come first to your Honour, and see as if you hadn’t changed your mind about the rights o’ that bound’ry. He said it in such a manner, sir, as how I thought maybe there was some new agreement, or the courts had decided, or something—begging pardon if I’m wrong, sir. So, after a few words, I thought I’d better see your Honour afore us starts a-breaking heads.”
Foxwell had been able to keep a clear brow, and to stifle a bitter sigh, but he could not prevent his face from turning a shade darker. His visitors, who had heard the keeper’s tale, looked with curiosity for the answer. After a moment’s silence, Foxwell said: “Oh, damn the fence!—’tis no matter:—yes, we’ve made a new agreement; let Thornby’s men alone,” and turned his horse to ride off with his guests.
He was by turns morose and excessively mirthful on that day’s excursion. In the afternoon, as the four were riding up the slope toward the house, they saw a mounted gentleman emerge through the gateway. Nearing them, he proved to be Thornby. Foxwell dissembled his inward rage, and had sufficient self-command to greet his enemy with polite carelessness.
“I suppose you came to see me in regard to the fence,” he added, reining in his horse. His companions also stopped, on pretence of viewing the distant sun-bathed hills to the west; but they listened to what passed between their host and his foe.
“Fence?” said Thornby. “Oh no, sir,—no need to see you in regard to that. I don’t consult anybody as to what I do on my own land—not even such a wise fellow as you, Foxwell.”
“Oh, I merely thought it required some particular occasion to persuade you to visit us at Foxwell Court. I heard you were—rebuilding the fence by the four beeches.”
“So I am, that’s true enough. I intend to do a considerable amount of rebuilding of that sort; but I sha’n’t need to come to Foxwell Court on that account. No; ’twas just the whim brought me to Foxwell Court to-day—just a neighbourly visit, that’s all.”
“Then pray turn back with us,” said Foxwell.
“No, thankye, sir. I’ve got business awaiting me at home. Glad to find Miss Foxwell is quite herself again.—No, I won’t trouble you in respect of my fences, Foxwell,—not me. Good evening to you.”
The Squire’s assured, derisive manner made his speeches doubly exasperating. As Foxwell rode on with his guests, he could only suppose that his enemy had come to Foxwell Court for the purpose of exulting over him upon this new settlement of the old boundary dispute. As the reader knows, however, Foxwell Court had another attraction for Mr. Thornby. He had, in fact, rejoiced at Foxwell’s absence, and, upon arrival, had asked to see Miss Foxwell. The servant found her walking in the garden with Everell; but she sent her excuses to the visitor, whom she then casually described to Everell as a neighbour having some business with her uncle. But the servant presently returned, saying that Mr. Thornby declared his business important, and would come to her in the garden if it was a trouble for her to go to him in the house.